Outcast
by OnceUponALegend
Summary: To the Elves she was Relomore, Daughter of Night, and the outcast. Legends of men knew her as The Shadow. Nearly one thousand years have past since last she walked in the sight of either race. But what is long lost may wake again from sleep.
1. Ill Tidings

SUMMERY - To the Elves she was Relomore, daughter of night, and the outcast. Legends of men knew her as The Shadow. Nearly one thousand years have passed since last she walked in the sight of either race. But what is long lost may one day wake again from sleep.

WARNINGS - Violence in later chapters

DISCLAIMER - I do not own LOTR or an of its characters. All rights blong to Tolkien, New Line Cinemas, ect. I recieve no money for my writing, it is merely for entertainment.

A/N My comuter doesn't do italics well so thoughts will be in single quotes. ('... ')

Don't forget to review.

The time of the Elves is drawing swiftly to its end; the age of men is soon to be. At last I shall be free. For humans, short of days, and shorter of memory, have forgotten me. I shall finally be myself; not Relomore, not exile, not shadow, nor outcast. I shall be Lomorelira Nightsong, daughter of the Valar, mistress of fate.

Chapter 1- Ill Tidings

(Legolas' PoV)

A soft roar meets my ears. Below me, an expanse of changing color stretches to the distant horizon. First silver, then blue, now gold, or green; the sea crashes upon the white sands with a sound like many voices singing far away.

Above me, gulls wheel on pale wings. Thier melencholy wail calls to me, a cry like no other. It is a voice from beond the edge of sight and just within hearing, so close, yet so far. They speak my name.

"Legolas Greenleaf,

Long under tree,

In joy thou hast lived.

Beware of the sea.

If thou hearest the cry,

Of the gulls on the shore,

Thy heart shall then rest,

In the forest, no more."

The soaring birds speak with the voice of Galadriel the word of the prophecy which has shattered my peace. Never again will I find rest among the trees I so love. Thier soft whispers are a momentary distraction, nothing more. Even amidst the beauty of Ithilien I am restless. For the Anduin is near, and the Anduin leads down to the sea.

The gulls begin to sing once more, this time in a haunting voice I do not know.

Come down to the sea.

Come sail the wide waters.

Come, come away,

To the green lands beyond.

Come see bright Elvenland.

Come walk her gem strewn sands.

Come, come away,

To the home of the gods.

Come down to the sea.

Come sail flashing silver.

Come, come away,

To the far misty shore.

Come Legolas!

"Legolas!"

"Lord Legolas!"

The dream desolves into the night as voices call my name, pulling me from sleep. I blink, and focus unwilling eyes on Faramir and a small man in messenger's garb. The visitor is grim, and my friend looks worried. The emmisary bows.

"My lord, I bear ill tidings from the queen. She asked that I give ou the message as soon as I reached Ithilien."

(Elrond's PoV)

Our power is failing. All too soon this twice beloved haven will be empty, no more than a memory carried across the sea. The time of the Elves has ended.

From my balcony I can see the whole of Imladris. The starlight is fading from the waters. No more will Elves sing from the trees or dance upon the grass. Only I and a few others remain; soon not even we shall grace this fair valley.

When we have departed, Imladris will return to what it once was. It, like Lorien, will fade into the past. Yet the blessings of our people will remain. For Middle Earth can not remain in peace forever. It may be that one day men will need a haven which evil can not enter.

'Varda, may that day be long in coming.'

But not all is sorrow. Soon I shall walk the sands of pearl. And beyond them I shall see my Celebrian again, whole and beautiful. We shall have all of eternity together.

Alas that Arwen shall not be with us. My daughter-

The twang of a bowstring cuts through my thoughts just as the arrow it has released cuts through the air. With a heavy thunk, the black-feathered shaft embeds itself in an ornately carved pillar mere inces from my head. A message is rolled around it. To see better, I move into the light of a nearby torch.

To Elrond, lord of Imladris,

Greetings

You may not remember me, but I know you, son of Elwing.

Do you remember a maid whom you cast out? Do you recall Relomore? If you do not you shall soon enough.

I have your son.

The message is written in blood and I don't need to guess whose it is.

"Elladan, Elrohir!"

My plan is falling into place so easily. Soon the free peoples shall bow at my feet. My father would be proud.


	2. To Minis Tirith

SUMMERY - To the Elves she was Relomore, daughter of night, and the outcast. Legends of men knew her as The Shadow. Nearly one thousand years have passed since last she walked in the sight of either race. But what is long lost may one day wake again from sleep.

WARNINGS - Violence in later chapters

DISCLAIMER - I do not own LOTR or any of its characters. All rights belong to Tolkien, New Line Cinemas, ect. I receive no money for my writing, it is merely for entertainment.

A/N In the last chapter the marks I used to set off the parts before and after the chapter were deleted. So that little part at the end that doesn't make any sense belongs by itself. If you still can't understand than contact me or something.

- The cavern smells of blood and sickness; of pain and human sweat. The fresh air when I step outside clears my head. In the distance, the white city shines like a diamond. -

Chapter 2 - To Minis Tirith

(Legolas' PoV)

The letter is heavy in my trembling hand, as though weighed down by the sorrow inscribed within. Though I have yet to read it I can see fear and shocked pain in the messenger's eyes, in every line of his travel-weary countenance. The news must be ill indeed.

As I unfold the delicate paper I wonder if perhaps the child within Arwen has died. It is unusual for Elves to miscarry, but not impossible. Yet I think that is not the case for I, and not Faramir, am first to receive the news. Were the tidings of the king's heir surely he would know already.

Also, the letter is written in Arwen's elegant hand, the script shakier than I have ever seen it. In places the ink is spotted an smudged with tears. Fear wraps like an icy serpent around my heart, constricting as any steel.

'Oh Nienna, lady of tears, let mine not be necessary.'

Legolas,

Estel has disappeared and I fear greatly for his safety. There are many who would take great joy in my beloved's death or harm. Please, my friend, hasten to Minas Tirith. If anyone can find my Estel and return him safely to my arms you are he. Would that I could go with you. The healers will not allow it.

Hurry my friend.

"I'm leaving."

Faramir's look of confusion prompts me to lay that letter in his hand. It is all the explanation I can offer. By the time he begins to read it I am already running from the room, a bag I keep packed at all times in my hand. Within minutes I am ready to depart.

Faramir catches me just as I vault onto Culgwae's back. The young steward's eyes are frightened, and already servants are scurrying everywhere. No doubt he will receive an official letter shortly, summoning him to Minis Tirith to take on the duty of stewardship until Aragorn's return.

"The Valar speed you on your way, my friend. I know you will return our king to us."

I lean down and clasp my friend's wrist.

"I will bring Estel back to his wife and people or die trying."

Culgwae turns easily at the pressure of my leg on his side. Just as I prepare to ask more speed of him Faramir's voice reaches my ears.

"And Legolas,"

One eyebrow raised in question, I turn my body to see the human offering a hesitant smile.

"Try to come back in one piece."

Faramir brightens when I return his smile.

"I'll do my best."

As I turn to face the long road before me my face becomes grim.

"Noro lim!"

(Elrond's PoV)

My sons arrive even while my voice echoes in empty chambers. Seeing the arrow in my hand, their eyes fill with worry. Identical expressions of anxiety contort their pale faces.

"Father, where did the arrow come from?"

"Are you hurt?"

"Nay, Elrohir, I am well. But I fear Estel is not."

"Estel-"

"-In danger?"

"How?"

I place the note in their hands. As they read it fear crosses their faces. Though they are to young to have known Relomore, they have heard tales of her atrocities.

"We're going to Gondor." They speak as one. "Arwen will need us."

- The man is brave, I will allow him that. He made not a sound when I slit his arm to get the blood I needed for my messages. A pity such bravery must be wasted on a pawn. But he will be useful.

Within a month Gondor and Arnor will be mine. Oh no, I shall not be forgotten. -


	3. Burning Sorrow

SUMMERY - To the Elves she was Relomore, daughter of night, and the outcast. Legends of men knew her as The Shadow. Nearly one thousand years have passed since last she walked in the sight of either race. But what is long lost may one day wake again from sleep.

WARNINGS - Violence in later chapters

DISCLAIMER - I do not own LOTR or any of its characters. All rights belong to Tolkien, New Line Cinemas, ect. I receive no money for my writing, it is merely for entertainment.

A/N

Thank you so much to the people who reviewed; I was beginning to think no one was reading this.

Vlad07 - Glad you like it. Thanks a million for reviewing.

Mari Knickerbocker - Thanks. What exactly are you hoping will come true?

TheFlyingPotatoes64 - Thanks, I didn't think the poetry was all that great, so I'm glad you thought it was good. And thanks for the encouragement too.

- A thousand years of sleep has weakened me, but at last my strength is returning. Soon I shall have again the power that was mine so long ago. -

Chapter 3 - Burning Sorrow

(Legolas' PoV)

I have ridden without stopping, agonizing over Aragorn's safety. But at last I have reached the white city.

Horses are not allowed in the upper levels, but I have not the time to dismount. Aside from the guards at the gate, none have stopped me. They know why I am here.

As soon as I reach the fountain and vault from Culgwae, I am met by a servant. He is dressed in the black of mourning, and I want to slap him. Estel is not dead. He cannot be.

The man bows low.

"My lord, the queen awaits you in her chambers."

I push past the human and lope up the stairs. There is no point in waiting; he will catch up eventually. And right now, Arwen needs me.

At the door to Arwen's chambers is a pair of guards. They are both young. As I reach them, they stand, hands on the hilts of their weapons.

"What business have you in the queen's chambers?"

I throw back the hood on my traveling cloak, something I realize I should have done earlier. My tone is gentle despite my haste. I do not fault them for caution.

"I am Prince Legolas of the Elves, the lady Arwen has requested my presence."

They bow deeply, hiding the red that tints their high cheekbones with strands of dark hair.

"Our apologies, my lord. Surely we ought to have know you."

"Never apologize for doing what is right. I commend you for your swift responses. At times such as this, your vigilance may save a life."

As they youths straighten, I lay my hands on their shoulders for an instant. Both look pleased, and the move quickly to open the door. When they salute me and I return the gesture, the younger's face splits in a wide grin. The doors shut behind me.

Arwen is sitting on a small couch. At the sound of the doors closing, she looks up. She knew, of course, that I had arrived the second I answered the guards. For though the Evenstar has chosen a mortal life, her senses are strong as they have ever been.

"Lord Legolas, thank you for coming." I know not why she has fallen back on distant formality, but I do not intend to let her continue doing so. I sit down at her side, and pull her closer with an arm around her shoulder.

"Arwen, we have been friends for many lives of men. Do not hide yourself from me. I care for you as deeply as I ever did."

She looks up, her eyes searching. I am surprised, but for some reason she needs to do this, so I let her. After a moment she nods and lays her face against the hollow where my throat and shoulder meet. I run my hand gently over her silken hair and she begins to cry.

(Elrohir's PoV)

A week has passed since we received the letter. A week of hard riding with little rest and less food. It is high noon and we are cantering through the streets of Minas Tirith, men and women jumping out of our paths.

Suddenly, a child runs in front of my horse. I pull him to a halt so quickly he rears, and I feel a slight prick of guilt for hurting him. But the life of a human being is worth the slight injury to Celebmor's mouth. Elladan has already dismounted and is carrying the child from harm's way. The citizens are furious.

"What do you two think you're doing, riding through the upper circles? How did you get past the guards?"

We had shouted passwords and names at them as we trotted by, but I didn't think the man would like that answer.

"Isn't it enough that we had to dodge one cloaked rider already this morning? You nearly killed my son!"

"He wouldn't have been in any danger if you had kept control of him. Or do your children make a game of running in front of horses?"

"Why you -"

Elladan moves easily between me and the man, who is starting forward. He lays a light hand against my chest and that of the human. But the scorching glare he turns on me is anything but light.

"'Ro, kindly keep your temper in check. Sir, forgive my brother's discourtesy. We have ridden long and hard, and he is tired. We wish only to see our sister."

"And who is this sister of yours, exactly?"

"We are Elladan and Elrohir of Imladris, brothers to the lady Arwen Undomiel." His voice rings through the thoroughfare.

The change is instantaneous. Immediately, men and women move to the edges of the street, sympathy and respect on their faces. Elladan remounts.

"Citizens of Gondor, I thank you for your kindness. I am sure my sister is proud to be queen of such good people."

They cheer as we ride off, and El grins at me from beneath the shadow of his hood.

"You see, dear brother, keeping reign over your temper often has good results."

We meet no other resistance until the guards at the palace doors, but they are quick to let us pass. But at the door to our sister's rooms, two young guards vault to their feet, hands ready to draw their weapons.

"What business have you in the queen's chambers?"

"The lady Arwen is our sister. We wish to see her."

The pair glance at each other uncertainly. But before they have a chance to question us further the doors are pushed open from the inside. Standing in the opening is Legolas.

"El, 'Ro; thank the Valar."

- Foolish Elves; do they truly think to save their friend? Sons of Elrond, or prince of Greenwood, it matters not. Even Galadriel herself could not stop me. -


End file.
